Sweetly breathing, vernal air, That with kind warmth doth repair Winter’s ruins; from whose breast All the gums and spice of the East Borrow their perfumes; whose eye Gilds the morn, and clears the sky. Whose dishevelled tresses shed Pearls upon the violet bed; On whose brow, with calm smiles drest The halcyon sits and builds her nest; Beauty, youth, and endless spring Dwell upon thy rosy wing! Thou, if stormy Boreas throws Down whole forests when he blows, With a pregnant, flowery birth, Canst refresh the teeming earth. If he nip the early bud, If he blast what ’s fair or good, If he scatter our choice flowers, If he shake our halls or bowers, If his rude breath threaten us, Thou canst stroke great Æolus, And from him the grace obtain, To bind him in an iron chain.
“Sweetly breathing, vernal air”
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